


We Were Born From Nothing...

by HenryMars



Category: Soul Star - Fandom
Genre: Animation, Charriii5, Indie Project, Other, also apologies i cant do the dotted o thing on desktop, and there here's me five hours later, but it's fanfiction if you squint so, except halfway through i realized, how tf do i tag for a teaser for a friend's show?, i call it "schrodinger's fanfiction", is it fanfic? is it not?, like he just uploaded the video, of light and dark, soul star, the technical term is "Inspired by Soul Star", these tags got away from me if you're reading this charriii im so sorry, thi is what happens when you're a child of tumblr, this could be it's own short story, up to you, writing fanfiction for the literal concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:52:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMars/pseuds/HenryMars
Summary: ...And We Return To Nothing......Except I Refuse...





	We Were Born From Nothing...

**Author's Note:**

> My dude did a thing and I screamed and then immediately wrote fanfiction because that's the kind of dipshit I am.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McrTk7TZ9FM
> 
> Love it like I do he worked so hard on it and it's so rad.

When Light first emerged, its surroundings lit up with energy. Stars sprinkled the void it walked on, scattering where they stepped and creating the heavens with each footprint. White shrouded it like a halo as its form collected and solidified. Tall and angular, with ebony skin, ivory hair, and milky eyes that shown with a brilliance beyond any comparison. The energy gathered into wisps, a smoky ever-shifting ball gown that left a trail of comets, that painted the void with nebulas and dusted the space with galaxies.

Light wandered. It wandered. There was nothing ahead of it; only behind it was there...anything. It faced the unknown, the unmarked, leaving a trail of creation, the beginnings of a universe behind it. The void around it was a blank canvas upon which to paint, and Light, just created, birthed from nothing, knew its duty was to  _ make _ .

And so it did. It tried, anyways; its creations amounted to nothing but a simple speckled beauty across a great dark nothingness. But Light didn’t get discouraged. It didn’t know  _ how _ to. So it continued to walk, to move, going nowhere and showering the area with potential.

\--

When Dark came about, it charged the world around it in red. Sparks of fire, crackling of electricity. Its skin was crimson and cracked like dry earth, black lines raking across its face and neck like a toxin from which leaked a dark miasma. Its hair was blacker than the nothingness around it, twisted into a braid that brushed the ground behind it when it walked. It had eyes like black opals. It was tall and lean in a slim evening dress that shimmered black and purple with each step taken. Great wings unfurled from its back, and with each flap the world around it ignited in colors indescribable in the languages of today. It exuded heat and humidity, an overbearing pressure. As it walked, it left a trail of dying embers and soot and fractured space, of orange and grey and black and white.

Dark wandered. It wandered aimlessly. It knew nothing of its creation, nothing of its purpose. It simply...was. It simply is. And so it did what it felt in its structure to do. It walked. It destroyed what it walked upon. It wrinkled the void in a spectrum of color all melted together and frozen in place. And it asked why, constantly why, trying to dredge up some kind of answer from deep within itself.

But it was silent, and so it kept going, because there was nothing else to do but keep going.

\--

They were lonely. They were made alone and separate. In some legends, its been told they never were to have met. In doing so, they changed their fate. They changed the fate of their future, of the future of everything that exists and will ever exist. And they doomed it.

\--

When Dark saw the white on its horizon, it was helpless to do anything but stare.

When Light felt the heat of another presence, it felt too scared to move.

They stared, across time, across space, across the void.

And just like that, they ran to meet the other.

When they were nearly face to face, they stopped and stared again. Their gazes: so different but carrying the same weight of their isolation. White and black met here, and though they looked to be opposites, their loneliness was identical. Millennia of nothing but solitude, though this took place before time existed. So much of their existence dedicated to movement without purpose, walking without intent.

So much dedicated without any sensation but the void around them.

Light and Dark reached out a clawed digit to touch, to confirm that the other was real, to feel something that wasn’t this perpetual vacuity. Pain was created there, the instant one made contact with the other. Dark’s miasma scorched Light, and Light’s energy seared Dark. As a result, each of their fingers dissolved to ash and floated away. They could not touch, for it would destroy them. But maybe they could find some way to be together, because anything -- even mutual oblivion -- was better than facing eternity alone.

\--

Behind Light was a story of creation but no warmth, for it never learned to nurture and cultivate what it manifested. Behind Dark was a path of destruction, for it never learned to control and harness the gifts it has. Each saw what the other lacked: a companion to break the isolation, a way to bring life to their existence. A purpose to fulfill.

_ So what if they worked together? _

Light went first; it showered its white dust across the expansive void, speckling the barren surroundings with the seeds of the stars. Dark flapped its wings, and the spectrum and heat incubated them, granting them life and color and time. They twinkled now, suspended in a distance farther than they could ever hope to cross, but they were no longer cold specks on the horizon.

They walked together back down the way Light came from, and Dark spread its heat with every breath, every step, every beat of its wings. Galaxies began to spin, planets began to revolve, and stars became suns.

But the same did not happen when they ventured down Dark’s path. Light cast its dust across the ashes and the muddled colors, and what resulted was mush and sludge. Nothing viable, nothing alive; no matter how many times the stardust was scattered or how fresh or how much was applied. Light looked only a little disappointed, but moved onward to a new horizon, for there was an infinity to populate. Dark followed, pondering what went wrong in waves of teals and purples.

They fell into routine: Light scattered its stars and Dark flapped its wings. Light led the way and Dark followed. Light planted the seeds and Dark grew them. Light walked forwards and Dark became its shadow. Light, then Dark; Light, Dark…

Light…

Dark…

_ Light...Dark… _

On and on and on...

And on...and on…

Jealousy invaded the mind of Dark, a hot sensation blooming in its chest. Light tread upon parts never walked before, while Dark fell into its footsteps. Light had a purpose,  _ knew _ its purpose. Dark was lost until they met, and never had the innate feeling of doing anything  _ right _ . What made the Light so special? What made the Light so important? Why couldn’t Dark create anything without Light’s blessing first?

With each scatter of stardust, Dark’s demeanor rotted. Was this its purpose all along? Was it doomed to be the shadow that followed the Light for eternity? Was there an end to this duty?

_ It had enough. _

It had no purpose it knew of, but its powers were made clear; while Light was creation, Dark was destruction. While Light was cold and distant, Dark was explosive.

While Light led the way, Dark struck from behind.

A spectrum of color that disrupted the white light. Its ebony body ruptured with green, splintered with blue, dismembered with orange, and mutilated with red. It fell forwards and burst into powder before it could touch what they’ve considered the ground. Stardust floated and dispersed all around; the only thing that remained of Light.

Dark had won. It vanquished the Light; the only thing that stood in its way, its only companion, the only thing capable of creating. 

_ The only thing that broke up this lonely, lonely world. _

When it realized what it had done, it collapsed into a heap in the orange and grey and black and white of its trail, into what was left of the Light.

And it screamed. It wailed. It cursed. It tore at its broken skin and its spectrum wings as if that would bring it back. The miasma poured out of it in droves, blacker-than-black clouds that polluted the void for light years around. It created shapes in the nothingness, resembling the Light in all its impassiveness. But all those shapes did was stare, leer, judge it, with lifeless black eyes set in a hardened black face in a dress made of a toxic smog. As if creating these shapes -- forming these vessels -- would bring the Light back.

But it couldn’t. It wouldn’t. Even if time didn’t exist for it, there was still no reversing its actions.

So it curled up there, amongst the darkness and the ash and the destruction and the scattered particles of what was once the only salvation from its solitude but transformed now a prison of guilt and envy. It cried and wailed and screamed.

And the void around it was silent.

\--

The Light created the worlds. It created impartial perfection. Perhaps if it never met the Dark, these worlds we live in would have developed on their own, evolving into... natural utopias. Heavens. Single-minded societies across the universe.

However, the Dark added human folly. It added temperaments and temptations. It added bias and color and variance. It added heartache, but also it added joy. Anger, and love.

Within the Dark’s mourning for its actions, a thought occurred: if they could make the stars, the galaxies and worlds, then surely they could take it away, and if Dark could gather all of the Light, then certainly, _ certainly _ , the Light will come back.

The miasmic cocoon dispersed. Dark picked itself up, still surrounded in the softly-glowing ashes of its companion. It reached out gently to touch the light, but like before, it burned. Dark did not give up; it waited, it concentrated, it gave everything it had to will the stars that studded the world around it to gather in its clawed palm.

And slowly...the dust began to gravitate. It had been untouched by Dark’s spectrum and heat and so floated freely towards its hand. It became suspended just above its palm, not touching but gathered, finally.

But Light did not reanimate. So Dark realized it needed more. It needed more of the stars, the galaxies, the light lost while they were creating. Unfortunately for it, now they were so far off, the planets and galaxies and stars that were out of reach.

Unfortunately for them, however, Dark had nothing but time.

Fueled by determination and the desire to banish its loneliness, Dark began its march, holding so carefully the ball of Light’s remains beside it. It leaves behind a long road of solitude, of ash and dying embers and cracks in the ground in its wake. It destroys these fledgling worlds, the stars and galaxies and planets. It steals their light and adds it to its Light, because all it wants, in all the worlds and universes, is its Light back.


End file.
